Dorothy Oh, Dorothy
by DementedbutFun
Summary: I wrote this when I was watching Big O. I really like the story line. This is about Dorothy, switching up her and Roger's perspectives; even a little more than you think. I might continue with it, but even if I don't this tid-bit is worth reading.


I regarded the woman sweeping the outside porch window

I regarded the woman sweeping the outside porch window. No, not woman. _Android._ A robot. Nothing more than an imitation of what once was. She did not possess feelings, or a gender. Just a complex combination of mechanics used to provide comfort to an old man and/or double as a dangerous weapon. Either way, it was impossible to shake the subtle illusions the robot gave off. Even Norman has become completely oblivious to the fact that she…no…the robot…isn't even a real person. He dotes upon her as if she is his daughter or something. Sometimes I wonder if he's losing it in his old age. I mean, he's got to be in his late sixties now. Perhaps even his mid-seventies. It's strange, I have no idea what his age is. I wonder how old Dorothy is. I mean, I wonder when the robot was assembled. I just can't help but feel a strange attachment to Dorothy. I know it's not just Norman. Perhaps the girl she was modeled after was a real catch. Maybe I knew her, maybe Norman knew her. Something has drawn the three of us to her, including Big O. My standards for companionship are a bit lax, it seems. It's starting to rain, I better tell Dorothy to come back in. Never mind, she's opening the door right now.

Roger doesn't understand. He'll never ask, because men are this way. Roger Smith is very different from most men, in some cases. Like a man, however, he does not want to feel small. I cannot blame him for these feelings. Because Roger had such a troubled past, Norman and I cannot help him find the answers. We may only offer our services to him. Big O also helps Roger on his journey to find his memories. Big O is very wise and loyal. Even though we are here to help Roger, he does not come to us when he is hurt. He only goes to Big O, where he hides himself behind Big O's sapient, protective eyes. When he comes back to us, he is very much enlightened. I can never be certain, but I believe he finds a little bit of himself every times he merges with Big O. Little by little, I detect Roger Smith growing more certain of himself. This is good. I am content when Roger is safe and satisfied. That is, unless he has pulled some sort of prank on me for his pleasure. Sometimes he is that way, like a devious child. Sometimes I really just hate men.

I think I hurt Dorothy's feelings. I don't know how. She's an android. She doesn't know what feelings are. But somehow, I hurt them. This afternoon, a client came by to discuss business. It was an elderly woman whose husband had passed away two years back. As I regarded her, I established that she wasn't all that old. I figured she would be about my own mother's age, if she had been alive. Then I stopped. I had never really thought about my mother. I don't remember her. I almost felt like I slipped and fell into a whirlpool of lost memory, then felt it slip away. This particular woman needed help negotiating with creditors needing money. No problem, I could get this settled within an hour. I already knew that I wouldn't get any money off of this case, I couldn't charge this woman. Dorothy supplied us with coffee, but she didn't disappear into the background like a proper maid should have done. No, she _sat down_ and listened to the conversation between my client and I after she had given the woman her cup of coffee. I tried my best to listen to the details of this woman's dilemma, but I kept glancing at Dorothy and thinking, "What on earth does she think she's doing?" In part our conversation; the woman asked how much the general fee was for the services of a negotiator. Before I could answer, _Dorothy_ interrupted me and said, "I believe the general fee for negotiations of this size is very minimal. Usually negotiation cases of this nature require no force and do not cost money." I stared at her. Who did she think she was, to come in here and listen to a private conversation and actually have the nerve to interrupt and tell the woman _without_ my permission that my services were free? I was not just a small-fry negotiator; I was _the_ top negotiator in Paradigm City, sought after by billionaires to do crime-fighting work in the domes. And I am to accept that little female telling my clients what I'm going to do? Unacceptable. Never. I assured the woman that I would get the creditors off her back probably within the day. To my astonishment, her eyes welled up with tears and she looked down. Err. I glanced at Dorothy. She looked sympathetic and was handing the woman a tissue. "Everything is going to be alright, miss." The woman wiped her eyes and looked up. "Thank you." She said with great emotion. "It's just been so hard…so hard…since…" she trailed off as she started to cry harder. This is the real kicker. Dorothy picked herself off of the couch and _hugged_ the woman. I sat back in my chair and watched. I suppose the scene went on but I was too much in a daze to really notice. The next thing I remember was shaking the woman's hand as she walked out the door and telling her to have a nice day. I shut the door and stared at it. Then I turned around and glared at Dorothy. "What was that?" I demanded. Her face had gone back to that normal, dour, robotic expression that she always wore. "What do you mean?" she replied. Oh no. I know she knows. "I mean, what the heck was _that_? I didn't give you permission to sit and listen, much less tell my client that I would work for _free_!" If I didn't know better, I would have said that she narrowed her eyes at me. "Roger, there really cannot be any way you would charge that woman for doing such a simple job." That woman! "I didn't even say that I would _accept_ the job, much less work for nothing! It's a complete waste of my time and you had no right to take command and tell that woman those things. She was obviously a little unstable, as well." I ended with a little bit of a spiteful sneer. Yes, I knew I was being a brat, but by then I couldn't stop myself. I know from the beginning that I was going to help the woman for no charge, and I suppose it scared me that an android knew it as well. "You are absolutely impossible, Roger Smith. You are a truly terrible person. It…" she was going off to say more, but I cut her off. "At least I'm a real person, instead of just an imitation of one." I said triumphantly. I could kick myself. Android or not, she's Dorothy. Sweet Dorothy. She's Norman and Big O's best friend and mine as well. And I just made a total jackass of myself. Dorothy shut down after that, and the pure android act emerged. "Forgive me, Roger Smith." She said robotically. I knew she was crushed, I could hear it behind her mechanical voice. "I overstepped the boundaries of your hospitality. I await commands on my next chores in your household." I know. I'm a terrible guy. Dorothy has turned cold. Norman also turned very cold to me after I insulted Dorothy. I guess she tells him things. Perhaps he just picked up on it. Even Big O is angry with me, I think. Or maybe it's just me. I'm the angriest with myself. Roger Smith, you really have outdone yourself this time.

Roger Smith is a horrible man. He is not truly even a man; he is not worthy enough for that. No, he is merely a boy. He'll never understand, he's too dull for that. All he ever does is strut his egotistical self around all day and play with the other testosterone-ridden boys while we are the ones who actually have to come and save him. Wait, that's not all he does. Sometimes he preens. Other than that, he is a waste of human life. It is just not fair how…how he can be a human while I am not. No, I cannot believe everything he tells me, those are his assumptions. I have to keep remembering those forbidden memories. I am human, I am Dorothy. If I lose that, I have nothing. I remember how it was to be nothing more than a robot, that time after I was taken from my father and they told me he was dead. I became lifeless; I sat in the dark and thought nothing for several months. My heart's memories swelled up again when I saw Roger Smith again when he came for the negotiations. I remembered his voice and woke up from my daze. He helped me find my father and spend time with him in his last moments and now has taken me under his roof and has on a number of occasions risked his life to protect me. He senses that I am more than a robot, but he just cannot fathom it. I must calm down. I must keep remembering how my heart pounded when I thought I heard his voice, again, muffled from where I was inside that car. This memory does not make sense. I heard him again? I do not remember Roger Smith. I do not have Dorothy's memories, she still has them. How can I remember such things? Why am I thinking about the Dorothy my creator modeled me after? She was his dead daughter. The first Dorothy does not exist to me. My creator was her father, not mine. Androids do not possess hearts. How peculiar for me to confuse my circuit board with a human heart that is not my own. Roger Smith is correct. My memory circuits must be malfunctioning. I exist to serve for the good of humans. Now it is nearly six 'o clock. I must go assist Norman in preparing master Roger's meal.

I don't think I had a very good life before. I don't think I was good person. Some things that convict me of these feelings are the little brain zaps I get every now and again. You know how you sleep and dream and then forget what your dream was all about, either instantly after you wake up or at least a few hours later? And then you're doing something later and you get that flash of memory, then it suddenly slips away again. It's like that. I get these little memories that come from the oddest of things, like from the smell of a roast fresh from the oven that Norman has prepared or the way I feel when I get tangled up in my blankets and suddenly I'm wrapped in a cocoon. Those are the good memories, though. The ones that really make me think I was bad is the sinking feeling I get in my stomach when I hear a gun clicking or the way I feel when I've had too much to drink. I like to have fun. It's not wrong to have fun, is it? Sometimes I think it is. I try to do what other guys do, and have fun. I flirt with woman relentlessly. It's just that most guys would try to take them home. I don't want them close. They don't belong in my life, they don't fit. It's just wrong…it just feels wrong. I feel bad. I didn't want Dorothy in my life, at first. I didn't want Norman in my life in the beginning, either. I felt like I needed to do things on my own. I fight for justice, but I think I'm just doing it for me. Maybe trying to work off my past sins to make me feel better about myself. If I just keep fighting, I'll be okay. I just blindly strive toward my goals, straining myself. Right the wrong. There's only black and white. I have to keep going.

Roger did have his memories erased by choice. If he would have waited, I could have stopped him…perhaps. Maybe memories are best left buried. They have a way of resurfacing, though. Like my memories. I suppose I should say why my memories have returned all of the sudden. It's because Roger apologized to me. It wasn't a blatant apology, it was heartfelt. And our memories are not once of the head, but memories of the heart. Suddenly, I remembered. I remembered everything. I still love him, even though he doesn't love himself. I know what happened, he blamed himself. Even though he may never believe me, it's not his fault that he killed me.

"I can't make anymore excuses to them, I've got to go to work. We've got a big case tonight that I'm going to blow wide open. It's going to be great, these guys are gonna be fluttering like kites without strings. It's going to be hilarious when we bust in with our guns and catch them in the act of money laundering and they start running into each other to try to get away from us." Said the young man to an even younger girl. "Roger…" she said in a small voice. "It's going to be such a big shocker. I mean, this is really a big sucker punch to Alex, I just know that he's getting some kind of cut from these deals. I mean, not that we'll tie him into it this time. When we finally do, he's gonna be one skurred man." He continued. "ROGER." She said forcefully. " It's not like I don't want you to be happy, but PLEASE stop talking about work. It's like you never leave it behind. Even when you're with me, you're thinking about a case. Just dance with me and forget it for a few hours…just relax and get your adrenaline rush from the foxtrot!" the girl tried to say with a laugh, but her face revealed her worries all too well. "Dorothy, you just don't understand. You never understand! You should be proud! I'm protecting you and this whole city and this is the thanks I get? People shoot at me because I'm apart of the law enforcement and then I get shot down by you. Believe me, if I could settle down, I would! But this is my duty, protecting people." The man said with obvious indignantation. "It's not that and you know it!" the girl shouted. "You love hunting them down, don't you? You love the chase, you love the thrill. It's all a big game to you. You don't even care that you're ending lives and that they could possibly end yours with a single bullet! But it's your well being that I'm worried about. You're going against everything that God says and…" Roger interrupted her. "OH, I get it!" He said with an angry laugh. "You're going to force that on me again? You think your God is going to spite me? It's obvious that you're so ignorant to the real world. You need to get out of this stupid little place every once in a while, toots. Quit being so self absorbed and see that there's a real big world outside of your little creative barriers." Dorothy just looked at him with tears starting to well up in her eyes. He felt a little guilty now for getting angry with her but he couldn't back down now. "Whatever." He said. "I'm leaving." Dorothy locked a steely gaze on him. "Fine." She said boldly. His heart sank. That wasn't good. That wasn't a good sign at all.

His heart wasn't in on the chase when they were hunting down a thief that night. He was just thinking about her. Even though she was dead wrong about him and his job, he still felt bad. He grimaced inwardly. Who was he kidding? She wasn't wrong. All he ever talked about when he was with her lately was work. And when he wasn't talking, he was thinking about it. Even though his job was exciting and helped people, it could also destroy people, something he had been overlooking. She knew his thoughts…she knew his heart. He was wrong to yell at her. He could take her flowers, but that would be too simple. She loved to sing; maybe he could buy her an instrument. He could buy her a piano, but that would cost too much money and he was saving that for…for what? She wasn't going to marry him if she hated him. "No…" he though. She couldn't hate him. He knew from the moment he saw her…she was singing across the room…that it was fated for them to be together. Before, he had been a smooth-talking player. Now he only wanted her, his Dorothy. "Welcome Roger" a silky voice called out. Roger came back out of his deep thinking. "Who's there?" he asked as he finally observed his surroundings. He had been sent into a building with two other men from the force to catch the money launderers, two other rookies that he was training. For some reason they were nowhere to be found in this dully lit room. The room was bare of furniture, unless you counted cardboard boxes as furniture. The wall and floor were made of concrete. "Who's there?" asked Roger forcefully. A water droplet fell from the ceiling and hit the floor, the sound echoing dimly. "I see you have cleverly walked right into a trap, young man." The silky voice finally said, obviously not answering his question. Roger brandished his gun and started expertly searching the room. He swiped at some of the boxes. "Show yourself!" he yelled as two stacks of boxes cluttered to the ground. Alex stepped out into his view, smiling sickeningly. "Hello Roger Smith." He said. "Looking for me?" Roger glared at him and clicked his gun. "I'm not putting up with any of this shit, we end this now Alex. Now I have proof that you're involved, proof enough to lock you away and ruin your entire dominion." He said. "Even proof enough to kill me?" Alex asked plainly. Roger seemed to be a little taken aback. "Y-yes, if needs be." He said. He had known Alex for a very long time. Actually, they used to be friends before Alex became power-mad. That time was now an eternity ago, those people didn't exist anymore. To finally come to the point where he had to kill Alex Rosewater, it wasn't a very tangible idea. If he had to though, to protect this city…he would. It was his duty as a man to protect the innocent from greater evils. He had always done it without murder, however, and tried to keep it that way. Alex regarded him for a moment with a solemn look on his face and then smiled. "Thinking that you're going to kill me, Roger?" he asked plainly. "Oh, I don't think you'll be doing that today. I think you'll be joining me, actually. It'll be just like old times. Just you and me and the world, striving for greater purposes." He said, not waiting for a reply. "And just what makes you so sure that I'd ever join you, you filthy piece of scum?" Roger asked with hatred. "Oh…let's just say I've got a bit of leverage over you." He replied and then made a motion with his left hand. Another man stepped out into Roger's view carrying an unconscious, bound-and-gagged Dorothy. "I was going to just blindfold her, that way she could plead and cry when she heard you, twisting daggers into your pitiful heart. The little tart's a bit of a livewire, though, and took out one of my better men with a lamp and cut another up pretty bad. She had to be…restrained, so to speak." Alex informed him. Roger's eyes opened wide. He just dropped his gun to the ground in resignation and kick-slided it over to Alex. "Just give her to me Alex. Don't hurt her, just give her to me."


End file.
